


His Greatest Gift

by EmberSparks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Armylock, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, D/s undertones, M/M, Sherlock's Birthday, Top John Watson, engaged Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, engaged johnlock, return home, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 23:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberSparks/pseuds/EmberSparks
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was not a sentimental man. He'd spend his Christmas chasing a serial arsonist, and now it seemed his only birthday present was a murder to solve.Until his fiance returns home from deployment to the Yard's surprise and Sherlock's delight.





	His Greatest Gift

Sherlock Holmes was not a sentimental man. 

He'd spent his Christmas chasing after a serial arsonist through the snowy streets of London, and now it seemed his only birthday present was a fresh murder to solve. 

Exactly what he wanted. 

Well, almost.

The only thing, the proverbial cherry on his cake so to speak, would have been if his fiance could have gotten leave. Video calls simply did not do John Watson justice...and any festivities that Sherlock was forced to participate in were always slightly more bearable with his only favorite person involved. 

But, the same could be said for life in general. And, as it turned out, deaths. 

"He's contaminating the crime scene!"

John had been deployed for over two years now. And Mycroft had taken it upon himself to hook Sherlock up with the Yard. As if blithering idiots like this crime scene investigator could do anything to help the consulting detective keep sane. 

"Anderson," Sherlock's voice was flat, like a man fighting off a migraine, as he untucked the victim's shirt, finding a fresh cut underneath it and along her hip. "The point of being put in time out is that you don't get to play with the other children. No matter how dull the is game."  the curly-haired man sighed, snapping his magnifying glass back into place. 

"Going to tell your imaginary fiance that you've been touching all over another woman like that then, Holmes?" 

Ah, yes, another thing. Sherlock did not care an ounce for sharing even a scrap of information about his personal life with anyone from the Yard. If they were not talking about a case; they were not talking at all. And that was how Sherlock preferred it. 

"My fiance can be entirely confident in my fidelity." John's ring shifted around on its chain beneath Sherlock's jacket as he stood. "Unlike your wife."

Anderson barely had time to turn the properly outraged shade of purple before Lestrade interrupted them.  

"Enough, you two, 'fore I have to ground you both," the grey-haired man huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, and bouncing against the cold. 

Sherlock had barely noticed how his breath misted as he examined the victim. "He killed her in a park, crowded with after Christmas Holiday shoppers. Untucked her shirt, and used a knife. Likely an Exhibitionist but what you really want to know, Detective Inspector, is that her keys have been wiped clean."

"Why the hell would the state of her keys matter, or are you just a neat freak as well?" 

"She turned away from a knife held under her blouse, the woman was defending herself. Using the keys as a weapon is a basic defense, so you should search the emergency rooms for a man with three puncture wounds in the groin.'

Sherlock completely annoyed Anderson and his rather rat-like face, pulling off his gloves with a snap of the stretchy material, before he tossed them at the man's chest. 

"Simple to the point of being boring. Find a more interesting murder next time, will you?"

 

"Freak! Someone here to see you!" Sherlock could hear the slightly less useless, equally adultress Sally Donovan talking, but she was one of the ones that didn't deserve his attention and he ignored her on reflex. Even if the woman was lifting the crime scene tape and leading a visitor into the secure area. "Y'here to arrest him then? Always knew he'd done sumthing or the other."

"Just here to take Sherlock back home is all."

The consulting detective froze. He'd just been thinking of John. Now he was hearing his voice...which he couldn't be, because that wasn't possible. 

"Take him home? You mad?"

Sherlock looked up, into the impossible face that absolutely could not be here...and everything else around them disappeared. He couldn't feel the cold bite his cheeks or hear the mindless chatter.  

All he could think to do was to close the last few yards between them as quickly as possible. 

And it seemed John was in complete sync with this decision. 

Strong arms wrapped around his middle and lifted him off his feet, but he still couldn't find it in him to care. He was cupping the newly-shaven face, so eager to kiss him that their teeth clacked together. But neither cared. Their lips were finally meeting for the first time in two years and Sherlock melted into John's hold. 

The only love of his life was warm and real and alive and very much laughing at the sloppiness of their kiss. And saying something under his breath.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to be shot," John laughed, a massive smile splitting his face. 

But, those words made Sherlock's mind catch up to him. Unwilling to step back even a centimeter, he dropped his arm from around the man's left shoulder, seeing how it was slightly higher than the other. Likely due to padding from bandages beneath. Dark circles were under his eyes meaning he didn't sleep on the plane. The injury limited the rotation of his shoulder...and when Sherlock finally took him all in, he noted the dirt on only his right pant leg. 

Foreign dirt. Not domestic mud. John had come right here from the airport and forgotten his cane. 

“I can practically hear your brain whirring, Love,” John murmured along Sherlock’s ear, not having ended their embrace just yet. “Just the shoulder now, shouldn’t get in the way of any of any domestic activities.” He smirked. 

And the taller man felt his cheeks dust pink. 

“Sherlock, I need a report for- who the hell is this?” Lestrade raised both eyebrows up to his hairline, no doubt at seeing the detached detective so wrapped around another man, his head resting on the unjuried shoulder. Anderson was walking at his side, muttering something over evidence baggies. 

“Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and, I’m sure you’ve met my fiance,” John said, shaking the man’s hand firmly. The couple talked at length about who Sherlock surrounded himself with since John had been gone. No doubt to keep him on the straight and narrow. 

“Fiance?!” Anderson finally caught onto the conversation then, and nearly dropped what he was holding. Sherlock wouldn’t be surprised if John could hear his eyes rolling. “Bloody hell, you’re real then.” 

“Chin off the dirt, Anderson, and I still want that report.” Lestrade snapped, before inclining his head slightly to the newly reunited couple. “Thank you for your service, sir. Have a good one then.”

Sherlock and John took that to mean they were dismissed. The captain reached for his detective, pulling him down into another, slower kiss. They normally weren’t ones for such public displays of affection, Sherlock especially liked to keep his work separate from his relationship, but John thought he could get away with a bit today. 

“I do think, for the first time in our relationship, you’ve managed to surprise me,” the baritone voice chuckled when he had enough breath to speak. 

“Mm, first time in our lives. I’d wager” John brushed his free hand through Sherlock’s curls, not able to hide the wince from his healing shoulder.

Sherlock opened his mouth to retort, but with a crunch of snow behind him, he changed his mind. “It should surprise neither of you that I do not share the personal aspects of my life with you,” he huffed. 

“And, cut it with the staring alright, or I’ll start charging for tickets” John snapped, and Sherlock snorted. “Sorry sweetheart, I know how you like to keep at arm’s length, but I’m not about to-”

“Ignore them, John. I do….though, I do find it arousing when you show that side of you” Sherlock murmured in his lover’s ear.  

“Good, because, I think I need to see this new flat of mine.”

“You’re not on payroll to stand around, keep moving.” Lestrade ushered the onlookers away, before leaving with an “Evening, Gents.” 

Hailing a cab proved more difficult than he anticipated, particularly because Sherlock had no intention of letting go of John as long as the man would hold him. 

They parted just long enough to fasten their seatbelts before the cab was zooming off to 221B and they were tangled together again. Sherlock pulled back long enough to press his forehead to John’s. He was dizzy from all the kissing. His fingers brushed over the line of the other’s jaw. “You’ve gotten out of practice with electric razors...but you shaved on the plane.” he couldn’t keep deductions and observations from spinning through his mind, even in moments like these. 

“Well, I do know how you like your doctors,” John grinned in return. 

Their hands were wound together, warm gloves long discarded in favor of touching, and feeling the other for the first time in a long time. 

“And, you should know” John pulled his hand from Sherlock, who missed the warmth of it at once. “How I prefer my detective, with his ring on.” The soldier reached into his sand-colored clothes, pulling delicate, white-gold ring from a chain around his neck. 

Sherlock did the same, tugging away his scarf. “I’ve kept it with me always...though I’d no intention of making a show of our engagement to anyone.” He pulled a larger, black-gold ring from his necklace. 

“As much as I enjoyed the dropped jaws, I don’t need to prove anything, to anyone. I’ve already got you” John murmured, taking Sherlock’s long-fingered hand, and sliding the ring on.

Sherlock repeated the motion with John’s left, careful of his range of motion, but then ducked to kiss the warm metal. He knew what it meant. When John gave his ring back...that meant, at long last, he was staying for good. No more deployments. 

“Welcome home, John Watson,”

“And, Happy Birthday, Sherlock Holmes,”

The rest of the ride was a loss for words, hands tangled in hair, the feeling of rings pressed against cheeks as their lips met over and over. 

 

“I love it.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you haven’t even seen the flat yet.”

The moment they both stepped into the den John turned them both, pressing Sherlock back against the door until it closed with a snap. “Don’t have to, I can see everything I need right here.” 

Sherlock’s retort was ruined by John legs slotting between his, his rough hands pulling the scarf from his fiance’s throat to replace it with his lips. His pale skin tingling as it was marked. Sherlock tilted his chin back, submitting eagerly to the bites and nips until his knees were weak He grabbed for John’s short hair. “God I’ve missed you,” his voice broke as he spoke. 

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, Love.” the captain purred, gripping his curls to pull him down into a kiss, parting the other’s pliant lips to taste him. 

A deft hand moved down the front of Sherlock’s coat, popping buttons open in his wake as he nipped at his bottom lip. The heavy fabric fell from his shoulders with a thud around his ankles, and Sherlock’s long arms were back around John’s shoulders, already bucking eagerly against the soldier’s hip. 

“Christ with the tight shirts off off off” the shorter man huffed, managing to get the top two undone, before he grabbed both sides and ripped the rest

Sherlock opened his eyes to what sounded like pebbles scattering across the hardwood floor.  “That was my favorite shirt” 

“Yeah, and it was very sexy. Even sexier on the floor.” John purred. “Missed that pretty pale skin of yours missed my marks on you.”

“Please, mark me, let Donovan see them on me tomorrow.”

“Oh, you brilliant man; I fully intend to.”

John’s hands had been gripping to Sherlock’s slender hips, keeping them flush together. The detective’s tight cotton trousers did nothing to hide his arousal. Especially as John’s palm slid down over his fly, pulling down his zip, the waist scraping down the outside of his thighs as Sherlock’s knees hit the back of the sofa. 

“Mm, bit of something to show you. Put on some muscle since I left” John smirked, his hand sliding down the bared skin of Sherlock’s legs. He felt the press of his future husband’s ring into his flesh as he was lifted from the ground, and his long limbs wrapped around him in alarm. 

To which, Sherlock let out a very dignified sound. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” the captain smirked, stopping on his way to the bedroom to kiss Sherlock, causing the detective’s heart to flutter.

“Aroused. Very aroused John. And you are wearing far too many clothes.” the taller man demanded, gripping the other’s face in his hands, his kiss harsh and sloppy. 

“No shit Sherlock.” John chuckled, kicking the door shut behind him as he tossed the other down onto the bed. He bounced, and the headboard thumped against the wall. Sherlock leaned up on his elbows, eyes greedy as John shed his jacket and the cotton T-shirt he wore. 

Sherlock groaned at the muscled torso, the shoulder still bandaged but the skin toned and tanned and his cock utterly throbbed at the sight of him, throwing his head back. 

“Bit dramatic there love...or you just that eager for me to fuck you?” 

The detective flushed a brilliant pink as John crawled over him, resting his weight on his good arm, and still, he ground his pelvis down against him and made him whine with need.

“You have any idea how much I want to make you come, here and now.” 

Sherlock shivered at that low, purred voice in his ear. He’d missed it. Missed John pressing him into the mattress. The wicked words in his ear and the domination. Because when John was in charge, Sherlock didn’t have to think. His whirling mind only really slowed when his fiance fucked him. 

“Johnnn, must you tease me now. Haven’t I been teased enough for the last two years?”

“Mm, now, don’t begin to guilt me. At least you had a room to yourself….here I’ve been dreaming of having you in my bunk, keeping you on the edge for hours and hours, just knowing you couldn’t make any of those pretty sounds.”

Sherlock arched off of the bed, his chest bumping into John’s.  He had no idea what the other meant about pretty sounds because the huffing and impatient grunts he was giving right now could be music to no one’s ears. But his mind was lost the moment John’s hand was in the elastic of his pants.

“Knew you were at home, thinking of me while fucking yourself those gorgeous fingers. Drove me mad not to be able to tease you through the video calls” John continued, now mouthing along the shell of his ear. “Find me the lube, Sherlock.” 

The detective was already panting, aching with how empty he felt. John was teasing him by slowly pulling his pants down his thighs, as Sherlock’s mind searched through his memories where did he have that damn tube last?

He reached into the pillows just as the last of his clothing was tossed to the other side of their bedroom. 

John snorted. “Well, some things never change.” He pecked the other’s lips, before moving back off the bed to stand, and toe off his boots, going to unbutton the last of his camo clothing. 

Sherlock lamented the loss of contact at once, leaning up on his elbows at once. 

“Ah, before you mouth off...spread those gorgeous legs for me...and show me, how much you’ve missed me.” 

His face flooded with heat, but John paused on one of the buttons of his fly, waiting for Sherlock to do as he was told. 

John’s ability to be patient was far greater than Sherlock’s. 

He licked his lips slowly, before spreading his thighs further apart, hard cock bobbing against his stomach. Lube slicked his fingers, and a groan came from his lips the moment he brushed his rim, seeing John’s gaze on him. 

“Speak, love.”

Sherlock cleared his throat. 

“Imagine, solving a case with you, the way we’d celebrate... all desperate touches and eager kisses. Often you pinning me against the nearest flat surface and fucking me silly.” his voice hitched as he pressed a digit inside himself, groaning at the stretch, though it was far from unfamiliar. 

“Takes a great deal to get you to the point of silly, I’ll have you know” John grinned, his head cocked to the side, a lazy smile on his lips as the canvas trousers finally fell around the floor. His boxers were bulging obscenely. 

But Sherlock could tell from the lazy way his hand moved over the front of them, more would need to be said. “Imagine us...nearly being caught...someone knowing, how pliant I become beneath you.”

John smirked. “That’d give Anderson a right shock, wouldn’t it?”

Sherlock grinned in turn, his eyes fluttering at the stretch of his two fingers.  John was on him, his wrists pinned by his head. His fingers were thicker and tougher, and Sherlock keened at the feeling he’d missed so much. He clung to John’s arm, rocking with every stretch and twist.  

“Yes...John...God, I missed you. Imagined you talking to me, fucking me. There’s no substitute for you pushing me down, taking me” his voice came out no louder than a soft whine.

“There he is, talking just the way I dreamed about,” Sherlock could feel John’s words as much as he could hear them, “Love it when your voice gets so wrecked like that, knowing I’ve done it to you….always had to get off hard and fast, never enough privacy in those damn barracks.” John pressed his fingers until Sherlock could feel the cool of his ring sinking into him. 

As if that didn’t cause Sherlock to absolutely shudder from head to foot.  

He reached up into John’s hair, tugging him close, pressing kisses along his jaw as the other nipped at him and twisted his wrist as his fingers thrust.  

“Please...please John, I’m ready” Sherlock was to the point of begging. It was ridiculous that John got him this way so very easily. Embarrassing, even. If he’d had half a mind left to feel anything other than the sudden emptiness. 

But John didn’t leave him waiting for very long.  He pulled the taller man by the hips until his arse was over the edge of the bed and he could lean forward and kiss him. 

Sherlock’s eyes closed the moment he felt the blunt head of John’s cock at his entrance. He shuddered and took a breath to relax, welcoming the intrusion as their foreheads pressed together. All the desperation and want melted into them. A shared sigh of content. 

John moved, slow but powerful, keeping one hand on Sherlock to keep him in place, the other cupping his fiance’s face, rings against cheeks as their lips only occasionally met. 

It could have been hours or days; Sherlock wouldn’t have cared. 

This was the greatest gift he’d ever received for his birthday...and John never let him forget that. 

 

 


End file.
